


Bring Me Home

by GrimmStormborn



Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel), PlayChoices
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 11:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15929369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimmStormborn/pseuds/GrimmStormborn
Summary: Takes place half-way through Aleister’s idol’s flash-forward scene, from Aleister’s POV. Assume that every other member of the gang is dead. Grace’s idol scene confuses me a little, so I’m assuming she didn’t die with the bomb. Written for Choices Creates #30 Prompt: Reunited.





	Bring Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Character death(s). Angst. Hint of suicidal thoughts, please tread with caution. 
> 
> This story also exists on my Tumblr page.

This one-shot is based on one of my most favourite quotes ever:

 _“Out beyond the ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field;_  
 _I’ll meet you there._  
 _Where the soul lies down in that grass_  
 _the world is too full to talk about.”_  
\- Rumi

 

**Bring Me Home**

 

“Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair,” I whisper to myself as I look upon the remains of the MASADA complex. All of the work, all of the effort, all for naught. In that destroyed building laid the remains of my father and friends, and _her_ – all I ever had and loved in this life.

I sigh deeply, snapping myself out of it. “Well, then. Enough self-pity. Time to work,” I say, louder this time. I turn around to instruct the soldier on what to do, only to find him unconscious, on the floor. In his place stands…

“You. Traitor,” you growl.

I call out to you, surprised as I stagger.

“H…How are you…you’re supposed to be…” I stammer. The moment I saw MASADA collapse, I thought you were gone, as well. I don’t show you how relieved I am you managed to survive. After all of the misery I put everyone through, after I put myself through, there you stand, the sole survivor of this five-year long agony.

“You lied to us, you bastard. You sold us out. To Rourke!” you yell. “And for what? A seat at his table? A pat on the back?”

At your words, I feel an anger I haven’t in a long while surge within me.

“I did what I had to do. I don’t regret it,” I bite back. Well, I was stretching it far, clearly. I _do_ have regrets, one significant one at that, but I’m not lying when I say I did what I had to do.

“They’re all dead, Aleister. Because of your father. Because of you,” you tell me, and the logical part of me is beyond pissed at this point.

“You can’t blame me for every single thing that went wrong on this island!” I argue, only half-believing my own words. Sure, I am not to be blamed for everything that happened – I didn’t set the Sabertooth or the Yeti on us. I definitely did not destroy Jake’s plane and ruin the only chance of us getting out of this damned island.

But I did allow myself to listen to my father again, even if I told myself specifically not to do that. And by doing so, I managed to destroy all of my friends’ lives.

I still don’t admit my mistake. I could apologise to you, but I don’t. I stay where I am, expressionless, arms crossed across my chest. It’s too late for apologies now.

“I can blame your father. And instead of standing up to him, you took his side. You chose him over us,” you continue. “Over Raj. And Michelle. Over Zahra and Craig and Diego. Over Jake, Estela, Sean and Quinn. Over Grace.”

My heart almost stops when you mention her name. It’s hard enough living life knowing I had caused her death, but it hurt more when someone mentions it. It makes it too real.

I still remember the inhumane screams that left my lips when I saw her dead body. When I clutched her close and cursed everyone and everything in this world. I remember that was exactly when I stopped talking to my father, when I just started to go through motions day in and day out in a desperate attempt to keep at least you alive. I thought, since you were one of Grace’s closest friends and confidants, I will be keeping her memory alive by trying to keep _you_ alive. That is how you ended up in the pod. It had been a deal I struck with my father.  The only deal he saw through, and that’s because he needed you.

But I don’t explain it to you. I don’t want to look good in your eyes now.

I want to push you over the edge.

“Whatever you are going to do, do it. Otherwise, you’re just wasting time…and time is all we have,” I say instead, gritting my teeth.

“In another life, Aleister, I think you could’ve been a good person…but not this one,” you say.

That breaks my heart. Not the fact that you think I’m a bad person, but the thought of another life. In another life, I would have said no to my father. In another life, I would have perhaps had another parent, even; one that didn’t manipulate me. In another life, I could have been happy with my Grace.

But things don’t always work for the better, do they?

 _Do it,_ I think to myself as I watch your fists clench and unclench. _Just do it, and get over with it._

You are advancing on me, and I am backed up on the window. I have nowhere to go.

I look at you, trying hard to keep my face stoic – even though I was bursting with emotions I can’t even name. The guilt, the sorrow, the exhaustion.

I almost open my mouth to taunt you enough to go over the edge, afraid that you’d walk away. But you render my words irrelevant as your hands reach up. You give me one hard shove, and I am flying.

Perhaps it is the shock of it – I don’t feel the shattering of neither the glass, nor the glass pieces piercing my skin. The Elysian shrinks in view as I plunge further and further down, my heart thudding as I struggle to breath. I feel nothing else except the wind painfully whipping against me. All I can register is that I’m flying.

I’m free.

* * *

I open my eyes to bright, bright sunlight. I look around from where I stand.

I am on a field. Tall grass that comes up to my hip surrounds me, and ironically, I feel more alive than ever.

I take one step forward, and almost lose my balance – it feels as if I am beginning to walk all over again. After a few rather embarrassing slips, I manage to somehow remember to move my legs.

I see nothing except the field, it stretches till the horizon. Puzzled, I turn to my left to see if that’s the case there as well. I am slightly relieved to spot a lone tree, several feet in front of me. I move closer, and I spot something – or rather, _someone_ – beneath the shade of the tree, and I squint. The silhouette seems so familiar…

And then I see her. The orange sweater, the colour of faded autumn leaves; it never truly left my memory. I open my mouth to call out to her, but no sound escapes. I stagger over to her, my hand reaching out, almost touching her –

And she turns around, her face as beautiful as I remembered, her eyes shining with such brilliance I feel as if my heart has stopped once again.

I want to apologise. I want to get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness. I want to tell her how much I hated my father, how much I regret letting him manipulate me into ultimately handing her over in a silver platter.

Yet, I find myself incapable of speech. She reaches out to me, and I think she is going to slap me once again.

But she caresses my cheek instead, and a soundless sob escapes me.

“Aleister.”

She isn’t surprised, she isn’t angry, she isn’t even sad.

She sounds relieved.

In the next second, I gather her in my arms, burying my face in her hair.

I’m finally home.


End file.
